


7 Days of Winter

by 4mation



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Elsanna Week, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4mation/pseuds/4mation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven days. Seven universes. Seven scenarios.<br/>One week. One couple. One true pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Pirate AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yumi_michiyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumi_michiyo/gifts).



> I see pirate, and I think Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag. Current status is clearly more gamer than movie buff, since my second thought was Pirates of the Caribbean. Nice to know about myself.   
> Also, since the only piracy I’ve ever committed is using an MP3 converter, I feel obliged to mention that I am not a sailor, and thus have no idea how it actually works. Feel free to correct me if the need arises.   
> Happy Elsanna Week, everyone! Let’s make it another good one.

 

_ Day 1: Pirate _

_The Caribbean, 18 th Century_

 

Blood was spattered across the deck. Whether it came from her crew or from that of the Spanish, Anna would be hard-pressed to say. The frigate had put up a damned hard fight, and having seen the contents of its hold, Anna could see why the Spaniards had been so loathe to part with their merchandise. Sugar, rum, gunpowder, cloth, silks, medicines: what had started as a whim had turned into the biggest payday in months, and this time it didn’t require them to storm a fort. Anna let out a low whistle as she saw a bejewelled chest carried out of the hold, the two men carrying it grunting and staggering beneath its weight. Anna casually leaned over and tapped Andre’s shoulder.

“So what’s in that chest, then, eh? Emeralds? Rubies? Idols? It’s okay if it’s just gold. I never had an issue with gold. All the gems and jewels, those are pretty trinkets, true, but golden coins minted right and true, well, those are a lot more easily accepted in taverns, I find. Not the source of wealth, but a useful stand-in, and there’s just something about the clink, you know?”

Andre didn’t speak. Clever man. Anna had known men who’d cut their lips bloody against the rope gagging them. He didn’t struggle much either, so the rope tying him to the mast didn’t scrape his fancy yellow uniform too much, either. Indeed, the only blemish on the Spanish captain was his bleeding shoulder, where he’d taken a musket shot, and a nasty bruise across his face from where Anna had punched him upon boarding. Bright and purple, the swelling had forced his right eye shut. The still-open left was fixed firmly ahead, as if this was all a bad dream that would go away if he didn’t look at it. Given how fiercely he and his crew had fought earlier, it was more than passing odd to see how easily he’d accepted his fate.

A strange man indeed, Anna concluded, shaking her head as she walked away from the mast and its bound captain to look over the rest of the Spanish crew. On their knees with their hands bound behind their backs, many bleeding, all bruised, surrounded by Anna’s own men, they did look like a sorry lot. Still, Anna had a reputation to keep, and gentlemen of sophistication did not let the state of their audience deter them from impressiveness. Fingering the little box in her pocket for courage and luck, she hopped down to the main deck with a smile, taking care to land her boots on dry wood. Theatrics were impressive, but easily ruined by an unseemly slip, and blood was notoriously fickle in its traction.

“Now, you seem to be a fine sort of men, loyal and strong. However, as you may have noticed, your loyalty and strength have been matched and surpassed. Now, there are a few options which serve as appropriate responses to said matching and surpassing. The first, and most obvious, is to accept that you have been beaten, stay kneeling and wait for me and my merry crew to frisk and forage and loot to our heart’s content before sailing off into the sunset, all while hoping that we don’t sink your vessel before leaving. The second, still obvious but considerably more foolish, is to find your inner bravo and emerge a hero, tearing free of your bonds to strike down the evil pirates currently plundering your ship. Should you succeed, then know that you have my whole-hearted, posthumous praise, and that it is my honour to have starred as the villain in your epic tale. However, should you fail, a far more likely outcome, know that I fully intend to shoot you in both kneecaps, remove your arms at the elbows, and then tow you behind my ship until all that remains of you is the miserable skull which conceived the idiotic attempt.

“But for those of you who are true believers in a fair and equal market, and have a keen eye for opportunity, then perk your heads and open your ears, for I have a proposition. In the claiming of the fine treasures currently being removed from this ship, I seem to have misplaced a good few members of my crew, and am in the need of some fresh talent in my ranks. I run a meritocracy, but feel inclined to freely allow employment, and the benefits will far exceed that with which you have been previously blessed. For right now, you serve as common sailors toiling away in hopes of seeing a penny that you might send back to your wives at home, an honest job in service to dishonest men, officers chosen by birth, not ability. But tomorrow, you might be truly free men, with all the benefits the title implies. You would serve alongside men of all births in equal capacity, knowing that your captain has your best interests at heart, and that any plunder you find is yours to keep, without having to go through some pesky customs officer. And who knows, perhaps the day after you might even be a captain of your own vessel, off to employ your own like-minded crew.

“This could all be yours, gentlemen, and all you must needs do is discard your current colours, renounce your king, and accept your place amongst the crew of the _Albatross_! Oh, and you’d have to kill whichever of your crewmates doesn’t take the deal, of course. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts about your new contract, as it were, and I find that disposal of former concerns is often done most swiftly and satisfyingly via shot through the head. Simple and easy, your old mates will barely have enough time to process the feelings of betrayal as you accept your new role as a free man! Now, any takers?”

Anna turned to the assembled men with a wide smile, opening her arms acceptingly. Her own crew gave a cheer, for their captain even if they didn’t care much for the speech, but the Spanish mostly just gave each other a variety of looks, ranging from confused to angry to afraid. Anna waited for a few seconds, smile fixed on her face, hoping that she wouldn’t have to murder the whole lot. It was a dirty, ugly business, and theatrics often sufficed in place of actual violence once the messy chaos of boarding and looting was done. But if none of the fools actually took her deal, well, she had a reputation to keep. A woman captain was hard enough for most pirates to stomach; a soft woman captain? Well, that was just grounds for a mutiny, wasn’t it?

Just as Anna was about to lose hope and have to order her men to tie the Spaniards up, after which she’d have to give a big show debating whether or not to leave them afloat or just scuttle the ship as they left, one of the Spanish hesitantly lifted his head, struggling to his feet. Anna turned her brilliant grin on him.

“Ah, here’s a clever lad! Tell me your name, sailor, so that we might welcome our new crewmate!”

The Spaniard nervous looked about, eyes flicking. He coughed, opened his mouth, paused, lips moving silently as he searched for the right words with which to accept his new position.

“Ah… mm… c-capitán? _Por favor_ , not English? I speak only little, so, eh, again slow, _signora_?”

Anna’s grin died as she tried very hard not to grind her face into her the heel of her palm.

 

 

A few days later, the _Albatross_ sailed into port at Nassau, the crew working hard as they trimmed the sails and cut the lines, her experienced and hardened sailors working alongside their new Spanish allies. As she leaned against the railing at the bow, watching as the details of the town sharpened as they broke through the fog, Anna wondered whether or not Pierre would be willing to trade a few of his crew for hers. Multilingual and manning only a schooner, the old rogue would surely be willing to help out a friend by taking some of her newer foreign allies into his crew.

Anna made sure to climb the main mast well before they pulled in. While unnecessary and straining, appearances were important. Besides, if she cut a striking figure at the top of the mast, coat flapping majestically in the wind, well, it would be a crime to deprive the world of that wonderful image, wouldn’t it?

Anna inhaled, breathing in deeply, relishing the smells of the sea. If she focused hard, she could take in the salt and the seaweed while ignoring the bird shit and stale rum. Letting out all the scents in one rush of breath, Anna opened her eyes patted her lucky box in her pocket, and grabbed the hook dangling by the mast. She grappled down to the main deck, which gave a satisfying thud beneath her boots. Tossing the spyglass to her quartermaster, Anna made her way down the gangplank, nodding with a smile to the sailors who were unloading her loot. Chests of jewels, crates of sugar, barrels of salt, casks of rum: a good take, enough that they might even be able to take as much as a month living the easy life on the golden shores of Nassau, picking off small merchant ships and avoiding the brunt of the military navies.

Anna made her way through the ramshackle but lively town to her favourite tavern, the _Roosting Gull_. Outside, she spotted Flynn Rider, captain of the _Maximus_ , which he had, uh, ‘requisitioned’ from the Coronan fleet. It was odd to see him without his Stabbington henchmen, but not for the worse; Anna had little love for the mercenary brothers Rider had hired.

Rider was sitting atop a barrel by the steps leading up to the tavern, gloomily looking into his tankard. An odd look, for the normally cavalier and cheerful rogue. Anna raised her hand in a lazy wave as she shouted out a greeting.

“Oi, Rider! Why so glum? Is your rum not up to standards? If you keep pouting at it, your smoulder’s like to fall into it!”

His reaction was not one she had expected. At the sound of her voice, Rider jerked his head up, eyes wide, a few bulging eyeballs short of panicking. He dropped his tankard and scrambled off his barrel, gesturing urgently at her to lower her voice and grasping her shoulder with a cautionary grip.

“Quiet, Scarlett. Keep your voice down. I was hoping you wouldn’t be come back here for another week at the least, a month at the most ideal. There are people here looking for the Crimson Queen. Now, I’m not one to keep track of your constantly changing grandiose titles, but I imagine that you might have introduced yourself as such on occasion?”

Anna shrugged his hand off, dusting at her coat to make sure he didn’t get rum in the dark blue fabric.

“Might be I did. ‘Anna Scarlett’ isn’t exactly a name to inspire terror in the hearts of grizzled sailors, now is it? And neither is ‘Captain Feistypants’, before you mention that again. And who is it exactly that’s looking for me? If it’s bounty hunters, we can just pay them off. I have the coin to do so, thanks to the absolutely _magnificent_ loot that I pulled in. You should come down by the docks and take a gander. Might be I’ll even share some of the wine, so that you might appear a tad more refined.”

Anna brushed past Rider as she spoke, making her way up the stairs of the _Gull_. Rider grabbed her by the sleeve, whipping her around.

“Might be we should do that instead. Might be that you don’t want to go into the _Gull_. I might just even suggest that you get back on the _Albatross_ with all your fine wines and go on a long vacation somewhere else. Somewhere Spanish, ideally. Heard Havana’s wonderful this time of year.”

Anna ripped her sleeve out of Rider’s grasp while rolling her eyes.

“Rider, this loot is _from_ the Spanish. There’s no way I’d be able to sell any of it back to the people we robbed it from. And for the love of god, would you stop dancing around the topic and just tell me what’s going on here?”

As she was talking, Anna had made her way up the stairs of the tavern. She was about to swing apart the doors when they flung open, nearly smashing into her outstretched fingers. Anna whipped back her fingers and was about to curse the bloody fool when she saw the crisp, red uniform of the British Navy, as well as the grim, shaven face above it.

Behind her, Rider groaned.

“I assume that you would be Anna Scarlett, also known as the Crimson Queen, the Bloody Whirlwind, and the Scourge of the Seas?” the British officer said as he pulled a warrant of arrest out of his coat and presented the scroll to her. His tone that made it clear it was a statement, not a question.

Anna gently pushed the scroll to the side. “It’s actually _Captain_ Anna Scarlett, thank you, and the Bloody Whirlwind’s an exotic dancer I met in the Bahamas. I once claimed to be a bloody maelstrom, but I was drunk and he was touchy. I assure you, though, when we got kicked out of the tavern it was mostly just bruises. Blood was very little.”

The officer didn’t even crack a smile. Stowing the warrant back into his coat, the officer held open the door.

“The governor will identify you, to confirm you are who you claim to be. Rest assured, you will not come to harm. We have come beneath a banner of parley, by her ladyship’s own written word and personal honour.”

Anna smirked. “The governor and his lady have both come here? For little old me? Seems excessive, if you ask me. No doubt they find our nation of free men too uncouth for their standards.” She gave a wink to Rider, showing a confidence she didn’t really feel. Appearances and all that. Rider rolled his eyes in response before burying his face into his palms.

The officer didn’t even flinch. “Her ladyship is the governor.” Anna’s smirk vanished. “She wishes to speak with the pirate _captain_ Anna Scarlett, and is willing to extend a royal pardon. Now, if you would be so kind, it is not chivalrous to keep a lady waiting.”

Anna gave the officer a withering look as she pushed past him.

“Don’t worry. I’ve kept her waiting for a good ten years. I think she can cope with a few more minutes. Rider!” Flynn Rider looked about as if hoping that some other poor sap was going to step forward in his place. Anna pointed at him. “Go find some rum. I’m going to need to get drunk and break something after this.”

“This way.” The officer gestured, somehow managing to maintain his stony stoicism.

Anna pointed at him. “You can wait here. I don’t need someone standing over my shoulder for this exchange. Besides, I’m probably going to need to hit someone as well.”

And with that, Anna stormed into the tavern, fuming.

 

 

The _Gull_ was, perhaps for the first time since its opening, empty.

The chairs were perched atop the tables in a sad, forlorn way, as if wondering why they were resting on their seats and not their legs, while the tables creaked in protest beneath the weight of something heavier than a tankard of rum or ale. The stools were pushed in at the bar, a rare sight, and the bar itself was still clean of fresh spills of drunken consumption. Instead of the hearty laughter and roar of drunken sailors and the clash and clang of tankards and bottles, the only noises in the tavern were the wind whistling in between the closed shutters, and a quiet scratching.

The scratching came from the single occupied table, in one of the tables at the corner by the shuttered window. A candle was set atop the table, casting its lonely light against the walls, as if yearning to break free of this gloomy emptiness and unite with the glaring sun outside.

And sitting at the table was the governor herself: a pale, blonde woman dressed not in the gowns and silks of a fair lady, but the coat and uniform of a naval commander. Her golden hair was tied into a tight bun, exposing the slim neck wrapped tightly by the high collar typical of an officer’s parade best. Cold, icy eyes moved slowly across the parchment upon which gloved hands were writing in a tight, elegant script. In place of the barrels, crates, or rickety old chairs usually used as a place to rest one’s arse in the _Gull_ , the governor sat on a folding bench, clean and polished and despairingly out of place with the rustic, ramshackle nature of the tavern. Her back was straighter than a mast, and her arms stuck rigidly to her sides. As she wrote, only the barest minimum movements were allowed, fingers and wrists and elbows and neck and eyes the only signs of life within this frozen sculpture of a person.

As Anna walked in, though, the sculpture seemed to come alive, if only a little. The hands stilled, the waist swivelled, neck tilted, eyes snapped up, as frozen blue met their twins.

“Captain.” The governor said in a greeting dripping with frosty etiquette.

Anna gave a bow so deep it turned mocking.

“Governor. Nice gloves.”

Those icy eyes narrowed. “I see you still insist on bowing instead of curtseying. Never one to play the lady’s part.”

Anna straightened and gave an exaggerated twirl, letting her coat swirl around her with a rush of flapping leather and the clacking of scabbards and knives.

“As you can see, my garb does not allow for the traditional greetings of a lady. Much like yours in that respect, sister dear. I see that you’ve gone to the other extreme of avoidance, and instead dress as if you were a noble son on his way to be promoted to admiral. Very gallant. You almost look like Father, dressed in that stuffy uniform.”

The governor’s jaw tightened at that.

“You presume much, to throw Father in my face like that. I’ve had men put in the stocks for lesser insults.”

“I only possess as much presumption as you yourself showed when you came ashore here, sister. This is an awfully far distance from your estate at the Bahamas, and with so few an escort. I presume that you brought two, three brigs to accompany your frigate? Other men might call it madness, travelling with so small a company, when you venture to the capital of the free men.”

“Is that what you call yourselves, as if it would lessen your crime? You are pirates, thugs and criminals, traitors to the King’s peace and the King’s laws, pillaging and plundering across the King’s seas. Whatever freedom you claim is bought and maintained at the cost of the King’s gold, the King’s vessels, the King’s people. This republic of yours is a farce, nothing more than a grand illusion meant to hide the lawless chaos and crimes you inflict against all the innocent and honest men in service to our monarch.”

“Now there’s a lot of big and fancy words,” Anna quipped as she swung a chair off its perch atop the bar. She swung it around so that she could straddle it, leaning against it creaky back. “Seems like there are a fair bit too many syllables for a ragged pirate such as me.”

“And yet you continue to maintain your fanciful delusions of eloquence and chivalry as a pirate captain, whose loquaciousness is only matched by your willingness to massacre and plunder your way across the Caribbean.”

“More plundering than massacring, I assure you. Blood is awfully difficult to get out of this wonderful coat, but what is a pirate who is not fearsome? I can hardly bend men to my will if all they can see is a pair of teats dressed up in a man’s vest. Give them mercy and they call it the soft heart of a woman. Give them the choice between service and death, and they call it the madness of a demon. In my experience, a demon’s less likely to get fondled beneath the decks.” Anna grinned cheekily as she tipped her tricorne in the governor’s direction. “All these precautions I take for you, sweet sister. It helps keep me faithful, if in my own way.”

“Do not speak to me of keeping faith,” the governor snapped, putting down her quill to glare heatedly at the pirate. “If you knew so much of loyalty and allegiance, you wouldn’t have scampered off into the night, chasing after fanciful dreams and desires. You would have stayed at home and learnt your place. One can go far in life if one is willing to play their part. Men serve me at my command, a service I didn’t have to buy with blood.”

Anna yawned at that.

“Men serve you at your husband’s command, not because of you yourself. How is what’s-his-name doing, by the way? I heard the wedding was lovely. Sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Hans is fine,” the governor said through gritted teeth. “He’s in Havana, serving as ambassador to the Spanish. We write each other weekly. He sends gifts at times. It’s all going wonderfully.”

“Fantastic,” Anna quipped. “So glad to know that marital life is suiting you so well. Clearly, you’re both disgustingly domestic together. It almost makes me wonder when I’ll get the happy news that I am now aunt to some hellspawn.”

The governor flushed at that, exactly as Anna knew she would.

“Oh, what’s the matter? Surely if Hans was man enough to marry, he’s man enough to do his duty in bed. And I know that you are significantly practiced at delusion that you could just close your eyes and imagine it was some other, wonderful, fantastic, beautiful, talented redhead in place of your lord husband.”

“Anna,” the governor said in a warning tone.

“ _Captain_ Anna, if you please, governor. I do love that title. It makes me sound so authoritative. Almost makes me feel a lord myself. And who knows, maybe one day I might be admiral myself. Might be I could be respectable enough to find a wife of my own. Alas, I would be unable to get her with child, but apparently that puts me on even footing with Hans, so I count that as a victory.”

“ _Anna_ ,” the governor’s tone turned threatening.

“Well, maybe it puts me a foot ahead, now that I think about it. After all, my reasons for lack of child-making abilities is purely biological. What could be Hans’s issue, I wonder? Surely it’s not the fault of my sweet sister, who is so entirely and whole-heartedly in love with those of the masculine gender. Does the admiral not know how to stand at attention? Is his mast lacking sails? Do his loins sleep tonight?”

“ _Anna-_ ”

“Is it always low tide, never high? Is his musket firing only blanks? Can his ship not find port? Is his compass not properly orientated? Is his longsword more of a bread knife? Is it that-”

“ _WE HAVEN’T CONSUMMATED!_ ”

The governor’s yell rang through the tavern, echoing in the emptiness. She glared at the pirate, her cheeks flushed with pent-up rage, hairs slipping free of her bun, pulled loose by the fingers massaging her temples. Angrily, the governor pulled at her collar, exposing the pale line of her neck, burning red with rage.

The sight took Anna’s breath away.

“Yes, now you know, you _fucking_ brat.” The governor said, her voice trembling with barely-controlled fury. “The night of our wedding, I got so utterly drunk that I could barely see. Apparently, a vomiting spluttering wreck wasn’t particularly arousing, so Hans left my room without ever getting erect in the first place. The day after, I claimed illness, while ensuring that Hans be sent to Havana as ambassador. I trusted that he’d be too embarrassed about not being man enough to do the deed to ever tell that our wedding bed saw more vomit than semen, and so far I’ve been right.

“And all this is because I can’t bear to have that noble _prick_ ever touching me, holding me, loving me. I imagine his hands roaming over my body and I shiver with disgust. So while you parade around the Caribbean _keeping faithful_ and _living free_ while whoring and pirating and plundering, I’m stuck in an empty marriage trying to maintain an entire colony and doing my best to convince King George that the pirate situation is under control and please, don’t send your navy to completely crush Nassau and hang every person who sails under the black flag. And why? All for _you_ , you ungrateful, disgusting, filthy, heartless _bitch_.”

“Oh really?” Anna said, standing and kicking the chair to one side. “You’re doing an awful lot of blaming and martyring, considering that this is apparently the very position you’ve always wanted. I told you my plan. That night. I told you everything. Like an utter fool, I went down on one knee, ring in palm, horses at the ready, everything packed with the ship ready to set sail. I told you that we could run. I told you that with mother and father gone, there was nothing for us at the estate anymore, no reason to stay, nothing standing between us. And _what did you say?_ ”

They both said the words at the same time, the words engraved in their memories, so clear even after all these years, their father reaching beyond the grave to speak through their voices.

“Conceal it. Don’t feel it. This is not natural for sisters.”

The silence that followed was thick, stifling, heavy with unsaid words, heavier with unacted desires. The governor sat on her side of the table, Anna stood at hers, the sisters glaring at each other, searching, hating, wanting, loving, despairing.

And then, in a rush, Anna was flying over the top of the table, lips crashing into the blonde’s, parchment and quill flying in the air as the pirate swept them aside with her body. The candle flew through the air, the light sputtering before it went out from the violence of its flight, leaving only darkness, intimate, concealing, safe.

Mouths moved, lips slid, tongues fought, as hands roamed through crisp uniform and well-worn jacket, sliding underneath military breeches and rough trousers. Memories blossomed like fire, brought forth by the sounds and touches and _tastes_ , so different, yet so familiar, ten years of experiences piling atop memories much cherished and well preserved. Skin once smooth now rough with callus and scars, breath that was fresh in memory instead flavoured with rum and salt, remembered smells of soap and sun replaced by the stench of gunpowder and sweat and blood. Breasts that were once small and developing were now full and hand-filling, the loose, carefree muscles now tight with tension and stress, hints of curves blooming into pronounced declarations of womanhood.

Anna had initiated, but it was her sister who committed. Fingers dug deep and pumped, curling, while thumb rubbed rapidly in circles, hand dug deep into the pirate’s breeches. Anna’s eyes fluttered as she panted, gripping the blonde and the chair with crushing strength, gasping as she revelled in the touch long-denied to her.

And yet, on the cusp of fulfilment, it all stopped, the movement, and Anna cursed and swore and damned her sister to the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker, but she was unrelenting, she was always unmoveable in her stubbornness, her willpower and discipline unchanging no matter how hard Anna battered it with her love and hate and desperation.

“Say my name,” the governor muttered into the pirate’s ear.

Fingers twitched inside, hinting at the completion that lay just on the horizon.

Anna bit her lip, refusing to surrender, she’d never surrendered, she made her own fate.

Lips closed around her neck, biting, sucking hard, leaving a red, shining mark for all the world to see. Anna sobbed in ecstasy.

“Say my name,” the blonde repeated, insistent, growling against the redhead’s skin.

No, she wouldn’t, she refused, she had chosen a life of piracy, a life on the run, she would not submit to the harsh, cruel reality of their father’s, enforced by the woman she loved and hated.

Thumb pressed hard, nerves twitching in a violent spasm, desperate for release.

“Say my name,” the lover said in the darkest of whispers, cold, hot, undeniable, unrelenting, as her rival cried and sobbed and begged.

And submitted.

“Elsa,” Anna choked, her sister’s name, her love’s name, her enemy’s name, her soul’s name, an unending tumbling waterfall of emotions held back for over a decade, released in the thrill of the body and heart and mind. “Elsa, Elsa, Elsa, Elsa, Elsa.”

 

 

Afterwards, when they were dressed and fixed, the candle relit, with the reality of the world outside hanging over their heads, with love buried under years of resentment and longing, the governor calmly informed the pirate that she was extending a pardon to the latter, and any others she could call to her banner. She would give up her life of piracy, return any stolen property still within her possession, and willingly turn over any weapons, ships and unclaimed riches to the glory and justice of His Grace King George. The pirates of Nassau would be free to leave unmolested so that they may reintegrate with the King’s law and realm, poor but alive and unharmed. The pirate cheerfully told the governor that she could stick her peace treaty up the King’s arse, and that Nassau was a republic of free men, beyond the reach of kings and lords.

They parted ways from the _Roosting Gull_ tavern. The governor and her escort officer (who now sported a purpling bruise on one cheek) made their way back to their frigate, so that they might return to the Bahamas, escorted by three brigs. The pirate, nursing her promise-fulfilling knuckles, made her way down to her ship, the _Albatross_ , so that she might get well and truly hammered on the fine wine stolen from a Spanish ship, alongside her old and most untrustworthy friend Flynn Rider.

Little had changed after the meeting from before. Pirates still lived as they pleased, kings still threatened to unleash the full force of their navy, two sisters still yearned for and despised the other for grievances nursed and raised by years of bitterness and longing, fed on dreams of what-ifs and should-haves.

There were only two changes to the situation, in truth. One was that the pirate captain was lighter by a small, hinged box, formerly carried in her pocket for luck, claiming that she was now above such superstitions.

The other was that the governor had somehow replaced her wedding ring with one which, despite being newer, seemed to be older, and those who kissed the hand of ambassador Hans’s wife often noted to each other that it smelt rather queerly of rum.

 

** Fin **


	2. Day 2: Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Coffee shop AU?  
> Goddamnit Elsanna Week. 
> 
> Listening to: “I Want You Back” by the Jackson 5  
> Also, a huge shout-out to Zo-Re for the song "Iced Coffee & Cold Dreams", which was inspired by my fic "Cafe Liegeios", the universe in which this one-shot takes place. Please, PLEASE go check out his/her work!  
> Link here: http://canvasrecords.bandcamp.com/album/iced-coffee-cold-dreams-single

 

_ Day 2: Coffee _

_Arendelle, 21 st Century_

 

The mirrored lenses of Elsa’s sunglasses flashed with the red light reflected from the twinkling collar. She slowly put down her coffee mug, expression not changing in the slightest, wiggling her feet out from under the sudden warm weight.

“… What is this, Anna?”

Anna beamed, barely able to contain her excitement. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she gave her wife a radiant grin.

“Surprise! I got you a present!”

“You really didn’t need to.” Elsa deadpanned.

Anna’s joy was unrelenting.

“It’s for your birthday!”

“… Anna, my birthday’s in _December_.”

“Uh, it’s an anniversary gift?”

“That’s in July.”

“Christmas?”

“ _Also_ December.”

“Happyday gift?”

“Please tell me that’s not an actual thing.”

“Look, I saw him, and thought of you, and thought that it would be great if you would-”

“If I’d what, agree to adopt a fat, furry, fluffy, smelly _dog_?”

Anna threw her hands in the air in exaggerated exasperation.

“But he _talks_!”

The overweight golden retriever rolled over, exposing its big, soft belly as it panted cheerfully.

“Hi there. My name is Dug, and I have just met you, and I _love_ you.”

Anna sidled up to Elsa, giving her a stunning smile while nuzzling her neck in her best, affectionate, persuasive manner.

“Look, he’s friendly and he loves you!”

“So he’s naïve and a horrible judge of character. Anna, _neither of us have any idea how to keep a dog_.”

“What? I’m _great_ with pets.”

“You’ve known four animals your whole life. One is Sven, who is Kristoff’s dog, and smells better. The other two were Maximus and Pascal, who belonged to Eugene and Rapunzel, and have never been alone in your presence for more than ten minutes. The last was Squishy, your rubber duck which you managed to drown at the age of five. No.”

“I would like to meet Squishy and Sven because I am a dog and I love dogs and ducks and I would like to meet dogs and ducks.”

“Can’t fault that logic. See, he’s smart as well!”

“I can’t see. And for once I am grateful for it.”

“Now you’re just being obtuse. Come on, Dug, tell her she’s being obtuse!”

Dug rolled over again and plodded over to nestle atop Elsa’s slippers. He plopped down and panted happily.

“You have nice slippers and are pretty. May I take your slippers and cuddle with them?”

Elsa’s jaw twitched as the golden retriever hugged her feet happily. Anna rubbed the back of her neck.

“So, he needs a little obedience school, don’t we all? I’m sure that with a bit of training, he could quickly become a much-loved, contributing member of our household, dedicated to-”

“Anna, why did you get a dog?”

Anna flung one hand to the side as the other clutched dramatically at her chest.

“I am shocked at your accusations! How dare you accuse me of having ulterior motives? Do you not believe that I saved a lonely, unloved, unappreciated wonderful boy from the ignoble fate of chasing squirrels in the park, eyeing at every tree and bush, doomed to the rest of his days to-”

“I haven’t accused you yet.”

“Well, I’m speeding up the process to the part where you give in to my womanly wiles and accept that Dug is now a member of our family and shall be loved forever and ever.”

“I am a talking dog and a family member. Now I love you even more.”

“Anna, _the dog is adopting itself_.”

“Isn’t he a cutie?” Anna squealed, dropping down to hug Dug to her chest, nuzzling her cheek against his fluffy head. “And so smart, too. He’s learning where the real power in the house is. Good boy, Dug!”

“You are red and sunny and my master,” Dug agreed happily.

Elsa pinched at the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I never thought I’d ever miss the days of you tying your iPhone to a teddy bear because you thought I needed company.”

“Hey,” Anna said, pointing accusingly, “Don’t you talk ill of Siri! Her untimely fate was a tragedy that still strikes my heart deeply!”

“The technology was outdated. The fact that we have a dog-translating collar should tell you all you need to know.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to ignore her ignominious end.”

“… How is running out of battery ignominious?”

“It is if you lost the charger!”

Elsa picked up her coffee mug, taking a sip.

“I will forever deny responsibility, and claim discrimination against the visually challenged if you continue to press the claim.”

 “See,” Anna said brightly, seizing the opportunity. Hefting Dug up, she deposited the large furball into Elsa’s lap, much to the spluttering protest of the latter. “That’s why I decided to adopt Dug. So that you have someone to watch out for you. Now, even while I’m at work, you’ll have someone there to be your eyes.”

Elsa’s mouth twisted in disapproval.

“You got me a _guide dog_?”

“Oh yes, oh yes, I shall be your guiding dog. I will see everything for you and tell you everything. I am very good at seeing, and very good at speaking, and very good at seeing and speaking at the same time. I shall be your guide dog.” Dug said, turning around in Elsa’s lap, barking with enthusiasm.

Elsa adjusted her sunglasses, very much uncomfortable with the mass of soft, heavy, warm happiness rolling around on her favourite pair of slacks. She flinched at the feel of a warm, raspy tongue dragging itself across her hand, instinctively recoiling. As she registered the origin of the sudden touch, however, Elsa reached back down and hesitantly petted Dug’s incredibly soft and reassuringly fluffy head, his fur bouncing slightly.

“Truth, now?” Anna said, kneeling by Elsa’s chair and resting a hand protectively on her wife’s knee. “I get worried, whenever I’m not with you. I know that you’ve managed quite well by yourself for years, but you had your parents to support you. Much as I’d love to, I can’t be with you all the time, and now that we’ve got our own place, I worry about you. Not only the big concerns, like fires or sharp objects or out-of-place chairs, but just small stuff, like whether or not you’ll be able to find your favourite pen, or if you drop your book and can’t find it. Now that it’s just us, I feel more responsible for you than ever, and I guess it’d help me not phone you every hour while at work if I knew that you had Dug here to look out for you.”

Elsa’s hand stilled, prompting Dug to lift his head, disappointed. Elsa chewed her lip in thought, before finally sighing in defeat.

“Well, I suppose you’ve already brought him into our home, and he’s already declared his never-ending love. We’re going to have to go to the shelter, buy food and treats and toys, and god, Anna, did you even _think_ about all this when you picked him up?”

Anna squealed and threw her arms around Elsa, drawing in the blind woman for a bone-crushing hug. As she pecked Elsa’s cheeks with rapid kisses and multiple gratuitous ‘thank you”s, Dug happily barked and tumbled out of Elsa’s lap to run around happily in circles.

“Oh boy, oh boy, I now have two masters, and I am your dog, and I love you master, and I love you other master, and- SQUIRREL!”

Elsa cocked her head to one side.

“Anna…?”

Anna stilled her affection to smile sheepishly.

“Uh, yeah, he does that sometimes.”

“Lovely,” Elsa muttered. “So when I get dragged into the middle of traffic, I’ll know that it was for the greater good of acorns everywhere.”

 

* * *

Adjusting to Dug was… interesting.

On the plus side, Elsa now had access to a constant, adoring, cheerful, fluffy companion who could (mostly) be counted on to deliver lost items, so long as they weren’t on the top shelf. Besides Anna.

On the minus side, there were dog hairs all over the apartment, saliva had an alarmingly high rate of coating random objects smaller than a tennis ball, every day required a few hours set aside for exercise, and the relative quiet of their flat was liable to be disrupted at any moment by rapid running, sudden barking, and the occasional yelp warning of squirrels, both real and imaginary.

Oh, and Elsa now had _two_ needy, attention-loving, snuggle-demanding, blanket-hogging, lap-clambering hyperactive balls of noise and affection.

Take now, for instance. The idea had seemed simple in theory: take the dog for a walk, meet Anna as she was finishing up her shift, have a quick coffee, walk back home as a family. They’d even co-ordinated the day and time to ensure it would be a bright, sunny day without much traffic, be it vehicular, pedestrian or squirrel-related.

But as tends to happen to best-laid plans, Step 1 was the only part which was remotely anything like reality.

Thus, Elsa found herself sipping her fourth coffee in the corner of Starbucks, re-reading the latest report on the required tensile strength of cables in civil buildings, with an increasingly agitated golden retriever constantly demanding her attention, while Anna popped by every five minutes to apologise about having to suddenly take a double shift due to a family emergency of her usual co-worker.

“Other master, I can see a bird outside. May we please chase the bird?”

“No, Dug, we may not chase the bird. We have to wait for Anna.”

“Other master, how long will we be waiting for master?”

“I don’t know how long we will be waiting for Anna, Dug.”

“Then may we please chase the bird very quickly?”

“No, Dug, we may not chase the bird, not even very quickly.”

“But what if I were to jump on the bird, thus making it a very quick and very short chase. Then, we will have chased the bird, and we will have waited for master as well.”

“Dug,” and now Elsa added an extra edge of steel to her voice, taking on the authoritative tone which the trainers had assured her would command obedience, but somehow only seemed to prompt sulking from her own dog, “We may not jump on the bird. We may not chase the bird. We are waiting for Anna, and we will do it inside, in the same spot as we are in right now. So, please sit, and be patient. Patience is a virtue which we must exercise as much as possible. Even dogs.”

“What is a virtue, other master?”

“It’s like…” Elsa paused, wondering what sin she’d committed in a previous life to find herself in the position of explaining ephemeral social values to a retriever. “It’s something which is required by our pack. To make our pack stronger. Like… good… digging.”

_“Congratulations, we have a winner. Almost twenty years’ worth of education, and the best you could come up with for a dog virtue was **digging**. Bravo.”_

“Or good hunting,” Elsa quickly continued, wracking her tired brain for examples. “Or good, uh, mating? Ugh, no, hell no, forget that one, god. Um, it’s like being a good tracker!”

“Ooh, ooh, I am a good tracker!” Dug yipped happily, tail wagging excitedly. “I am the best tracker in our pack! I have tracked the TV remote and the car keys and the apartment keys and the leftover lasagne, because I am a good tracker!”

“Yeah, we were actually throwing that last one away,” Elsa muttered, before giving what she hoped was an encouraging smile and not a clenched approximation of a tiger-shark. “Yes, Dug, you’re a good tracker! And being good a tracking means you’re good at a virtue, which means you helped our pack! So, uh, if you could, you know, be better at patience, then you’d be good at another virtue, and so you’d help our pack even more!”

“Oh boy, oh boy, I would like to help our pack! I will become a good patiencer, until I am as good at patiencing as I am at tracking!”

“Great!” Elsa said with a relieved sigh. “So, if you want to be a really good patience… patiencer… um, you need to sit, like you normally do. Sit, Dug!”

Dug plopped down his hindquarters, panting happily.

“Good boy! Now, just keep doing that. Quietly. For as long as I say so. Then you’ll be a good… patiencer.”

“Oh boy, oh boy, I will be the best patiencer in the pack. I promise other master!”

 

* * *

 

 

Dug’s patience training lasted all of twenty blissfully silent seconds before the retriever looked up at Elsa curiously, before prodding her leg with his nose.

“Other master?”

Sighing, Elsa looked up from her manual and looked at what she hoped were Dug’s eyes, and not blank space two feet above his fluffy head.

“Yes, Dug?”

“Is love a good virtue?”

Frowning, Elsa put down her manual.

“What do you mean?”

Dug’s voice sounded abashed, as if he was embarrassed to have to ask.

“Well, uh, you said that a virtue is something which makes the pack stronger, yes, like digging and tracking and patiencing. But I am good at loving, but not good at patiencing, so I was wondering if that means I am not making the pack strong.”

“Dug, why would you think that? Love is very important to the pack. Just look at me and Anna. It’s our love that made our pack exist in the first place. And so, if you’re good at loving, then you’re helping to strengthen our pack’s bonds. Love is what ties us together. Without it, we’d just be… well, lone wolves.”

_“Nice. Very punny.”_

_“For a voice in my head that I have to actively concentrate to form, you’re incredibly sarcastic, you know that?”_

“That is good, other master. I am happy to know this. But what if I am not good enough at loving as I am at tracking? Will I not be making the pack stronger?”

At this, Elsa let out a sigh. Pushing her chair back, she uncrossed her legs and patted her lap.

“Dug, come here.”

Grimacing as she braced herself, Elsa couldn’t help but let out a small “oof” as Dug clambered onto her lap. While he was warm and fluffy, he was still not exercising nearly as much as he should be. Given that Elsa herself had the muscular figure of a stick person, the weight was always a little heavy. But as Dug laid his head against her stomach, and she could feel the warmth of his breath, Elsa knew that a small discomfort would be more than tolerable.

Scratching behind his ears with soft strokes, Elsa spoke to Dug, voice soft, as old dreams played in her mind, carrying her entire worlds away.

“Nobody knows whether or not their love will ever be enough for the pack. We’ll always have our moments of doubt, of insecurity. But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that even when you can’t trust in yourself, you can trust in your pack. Whenever I feel like I’m too aloof, or cold, or fragile, or helpless… I look to Anna. And then I know that even if sometimes I can’t have the kind of unconditional affection and adoration for the world that she does… it’s okay. Because Anna loves enough for the both of us. And knowing that love is there, that it will always be there… well, that helps me feel a little better, a little stronger. And that trust, that trust that comes from love… that’s what makes a pack truly strong.”

“Other master is very good at love,” Dug ruminated, his voice barely audible above the contented growl rumbling in his belly as Elsa’s fingers scratched at a sensitive spot which made his ear flick and his tail wag.

Elsa smiled at that, soft, warm. “Yes, I suppose she is. I guess she’s the best lover in our pack, huh?”

Dug sighed contentedly, before perking up. Barking excitedly, he rolled out of Elsa’s lap to patter over to an approaching person, yipping and licking. Smiling herself, knowing that only Anna could get this response out of him, Elsa listened to the sound of her love’s laughter with a warm feeling bubbling inside.

“Good boy, Dug,” Elsa whispered.

As the footsteps came to a stop, Elsa lifted her gaze upwards to hopefully look at Anna’s face.

“I see you and Dug were having a good time.”

And if it weren’t for the warmth spreading to the tips of her toes, Elsa would’ve groaned and buried her face in her arms, because she _knew_ , she just _knew_ that Anna would have that smug smirk and that knowing twinkle in her eyes. As it were, she settled for replacing the goofy grin threatening to spread across her lips with a small pout and a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Yes. I was teaching him on the importance of patience.” Elsa lifted her teacup to her lips, hoping to hide her smile beneath the rising steam. “If he is to be an effective member of this household, he must learn to wait on the whims of his elders. I refuse to raise a creature which does not submit to my obvious superiority.” She took an imperious sip.

“Of course,” and Anna’s voice is so damned _smug_ that Elsa kinda wants to deck her in the face, and then kiss her until both their lips are bruised. “You do know that you’re staring at my boobs, right?”

Elsa sputtered, coughing half of her coffee onto her saucer. As she tried to set down her cup quickly, hoping that she didn’t miss the table completely, she scowled at the redhead’s (totally awesome) rack.

“You’re evil, and I really don’t know what I put up with you, I really don’t.”

“It is because master is the best lover!” Dug chimed in helpfully, panting somewhere near Anna’s left boot.

Anna coughed at that, and Elsa could imagine the red spreading across her freckled cheeks.

“Ex- _cuse_ me?!”

“He means best at loving,” Elsa said hastily. “I was explaining to him that in a pack, every member contributes something more than the others. Dug contributes tracking and digging, you’re the best at loving. I, of course, am the avatar of patience, poise, and intelligence.”

“That would be really sweet, if you hadn’t hogged the most attributes to yourself,” Anna said in that tone which meant ‘I’m going to tease you now, because I love you so goddamn much’. Bending at her knees, Anna scratched Dug beneath his chin, earning an enthusiastic bark. “Dug, what do you think of mean old Elsa taking three virtues for herself and leaving only one for me?”

“Don’t worry master,” Dug panted, tail thumping in joy. “Other master told me that there are other virtues which are important to the pack, and I know that other master thinks that you are very good at one.”

“Really, Dug?” Anna poked Elsa in the shin, the closest substitute she had to sticking her tongue out at her. “Which virtue is that?”

“Mating!” Dug barked.

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the sounds of a golden retriever’s cheerful panting, a redheaded barista’s nervously hysterical giggling, and the grinding of a blind blonde’s teeth.

“Like dogs!” Dug added helpfully.

Elsa more or less exploded like a Thanksgiving firework launched into a supernova.

 

* * *

 

 

“Get rid of it!”

“Elsa, you’re just being irrational! I promise, Dug wasn’t watching when we-”

“No! Nope! We are _not_ having a chattering voyeur of a dog! Out! Vamoos! We are _not_ keeping it!”

“Other master is angry. Perhaps master should take her to the bedroom and-”

“See, Anna! _Do you see this because I can’t and I already know where this is going!_ ”

“Uh, Dug, why don’t you go play with your squirrel plushie for a while. Master and other master are having a little domestic, and-”

“SQUIRREL!”

“At least get rid of that damned collar, if it’s going to _blab_ about-”

“DON’T YOU DARE TAKE AWAY HIS FREEDOM OF SPEECH! OUR DOG WILL NOT SUFFER IN SILENCE!”

“Anna, YOUR DOG IS A CREEPY SEX SPECTATOR! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME HE WAS IN THE ROOM!”

“I’M NOT KICKING HIM OUT OF HIS BED JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE FEELING FRISKY! MAYBE YOU SHOULD LEARN TO KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS!”

“Where are you squirrel? You cannot hide forever, for I am the tracker of my pack, and I am very good at tracking, so I will find you-”

“EITHER THE DOG WALKS OR I DO, ANNA! MY PARENTS WANT ME BACK HOME ANYWAY!”

“OH, SURE, GO RUNNING HOME TO MOMMY AND DADDY INSTEAD OF DEALING WITH THIS LIKE AN ADULT! YOU CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR PROBLEMS, ELSA!”

“IT’S NOT MY PROBLEM, IT’S YOURS! AND IT’S IN THE SHAPE OF A FAT, FLUFFY GOLDEN RETRIEVER!”

“STOP BODY-SHAMING OUR DOG!”

 

And that was the story of how Dug came to live with Elsa and Anna.

 

** Fin **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never, amirite?  
> No? Okay, I’ll shut up and get back to finishing this series, several centuries too late.  
> For those who don’t know, this takes place after Café Liégeois, my other fic starring a blind!Elsa and a barista!Anna. Feel free to check it out and leave angry comments asking me when I’ll actually start updating fics.   
> Keep writing, keep reading, and keep being awesome!

**Author's Note:**

> I do love me a hurricane of euphemisms, followed by intense, angry emotion. Happy Elsanna Week again! I’ll try to keep the fics going! Till then, see you next time!  
> Keep writing, keep reading, and keep being awesome!


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